Beauty in the Broken
by ICarryYourHeart16
Summary: Hoffman is dead, but his carefully crafted plans to take down his country and the woman responsible for his downfall live on. The team is tasked with the impossible, but Special Operations group 7 is trained for just that. Jaz x Dalton (Slow burn)
1. Chapter 1

He'd been watching them before they were even aware he was their intended target. They were easy enough to spot, despite the care they took to remain unassuming. That was his advantage, getting to observe them before they would even know to get their guard up. He remained calm as he trotted down the stairs, and wasn't surprised when first Captain Dalton, and then Sergeant Khan glanced at him as he passed, deciding his threat level with a quick sweep. He was careful not to arouse their suspicions. Hoffman saw his exit and almost reached it, when the team of three closed off the exit. He thought of just waving to P in one of their collar cams, but decided against it, better to test her, she always did love a challenge.

Patricia was sharp. All it took was a few words for her to recognize his voice. Hoffman smiled. It really was beautiful how the pieces were falling together. Poetry in motion. Hoffman felt his excitement rise as he was blindfolded and loaded in a van back to their home base. The tension in the car was palpable as they tried to figure out who the hell he was and why their superior had suddenly demanded he be kept prisoner. Hoffman leaned back luxuriously. The time was soon approaching when he could look into Patricia's eyes a she met her end.

* * *

Hoffman looked on quietly as the team moved about the Quonset hut. The woman intrigued him, as women usually did. She was a firecracker. Tough exterior with a fire in her belly. She wasn't too easy to crack. She didn't act like she had anything to prove, most likely she'd already proven it a thousand times and knew it. He almost didn't know what he would use to get under her skin until a pattern started revealing itself. The sniper spent just enough time by her leader's side to raise his suspicion. Hoffman gazed at the two intently. They hadn't slept together, that much was obvious, but there was definitely something there.

Dalton was a difficult read, but Hoffman knew the look of a man consumed with a woman, hadn't he looked at himself enough over the years to memorize the symptoms?

There were the glances. Quick, and to the untrained eye, nothing of note, but Hoffman had made a study of reading people. Dalton was laser focused on his task until Jasmine walked by, and then his eyes would flick to her passing form and back to his task again. It would have meant nothing if he had also glanced up anytime one of the others passed, but they didn't seem to have the same effect.

His next clue came when he spotted the obvious frustration on Dalton's face, and the way it eased when the woman hopped up onto the desk where he worked and began lazily tossing an unarmed grenade. They exchanged looks every once in a while, and they were full of the kind of meaning only those who were closely bonded could share. He was frustrated with the inaction Patricia had forced on him, and she was there as a support, her glances reassuring and full of trust that he would handle it. It seemed to bolster him. Hoffman shook his head. He'd made the same mistake too. He'd lived for the moments when Patricia's eyes would gleam with pride when he'd gained invaluable information, or ended a person responsible for the death of hundreds. When he'd felt like he'd become the monster, all he needed was Patricia's presence to make him feel like the hero again.

Any doubts Hoffman had about the complicated emotions between the two was erased when he made the little boyfriend jab. He'd aimed it at Jaz, and had been doubly pleased when it managed to stick two targets. Jaz's quick, irritated response had told him exactly what he'd needed to know. Dalton's response told him more. His feelings for Jaz were deep and complicated, and fully compartmentalized. He probably had some stupid reason for it, duty, honor, most likely it was to protect Jaz above all, because the woman always got the blame if feelings formed in a combat unit. But Hoffman knew better than anyone that suppressed desires became an ever growing weakness. He wanted to push that tender spot, make the man in front of him writhe, but Patricia walked in, and all his focus shifted to the object of a 12 year obsession.

* * *

He gave them just enough to make them think Patricia had some sort of influence on him. She had once, but he was long beyond the weakness that had made him so vulnerable to her. As they planned a ruse to trap his man his eyes drifted to Patricia. She kept a wary eye on him and he shrugged as if to say, yeah I can make the moral choice sometimes.

Jaz walked out in outfit designed to make a man think of sin, and Hoffman's eyes flicked immediately to Dalton, who was still unaware of her presence. McGuire stepped out of their living quarters and nodded to Jaz

"Nice"

She rolled her eyes, but her lip twitched.

Dalton glanced their way and Hoffman had to give the guy credit. He spent all of a millisecond looking like he got hit by a two by four before he nodded at them to go ahead. There was one more quick glance Jaz's way before he turned back to Preach at the computer.

* * *

From what he'd managed to piece together, from reports and medical, Jaz had come out of her incident in Tehran mostly unscathed. She'd been back on duty within two weeks, a hell of a quick turnaround for someone who'd been tortured for over 24 hours. She was tough. That was easy enough to see, but there were always cracks, ones that went unnoticed until they became crevices. It spoke volumes of Dalton's trust and confidence in Jaz that he left her alone with him. Hoffman was somewhat surprised, but mostly impressed. As soft as Dalton was, he didn't become the legendary military leader he was by protecting people's feelings. If he'd left Jaz to watch over him, that meant he trusted she wasn't vulnerable to his constant barbs. Hoffman smiled to himself. She probably wasn't, but he could definitely use her to get to Dalton.

Hoffman watched Jaz. She had been cleaning the guns in storage for the past thirty minutes as a way to pass the time. He'd tried a few barbs here and there, but she'd mostly ignored him, her focus on the weapons she held in her hands. She exhibited the precise control her position as team sniper demanded. No matter how many soft points he tried to press, she remained at ease, cleaning the weapons almost as if the action soothed her.

"Do you think they only keep you around to fill some sort of quota? The media has made such a stink about women in comba-" despite himself, Hoffman stiffened slightly when Jaz calmly leveled a sniper rifle in his direction. She adjusted the scope slightly, polishing it with a cloth, as if her only intention had been to clean it, but a cocky smile crossed her lips.

Hoffman smirked. Hell, even he wasn't immune to the force of that gaze behind a gun pointed at his heart. They both glanced in Dalton's direction as he entered, and Hoffman pinned her with a knowing look.

"Don't worry, he feels the same way"

Jaz let out a snort.

"Oh really? Wow, I can't wait to write about it in my journal"

"Probably why he picks you to work with him more often than not, gives him an excuse to be near you."

She rolled her eyes and walked casually up to the cage.

"You think you're the first man to tell me I only got picked because I'm a woman?"

Pleased with her, he opened his mouth to retort, only to be interrupted.

"Jaz," Dalton signaled her with a look, and she immediately stepped back.

"We had quite the conversation while you were gone. She is quite a woman. I understand why you put a bullet in a man's leg for her. Might have done worse if the situation called for it" Hoffman said viciously, and enjoyed the way Jaz's eyes widened slightly and snapped to Dalton.

Dalton did an admirable job of staying unfazed, but Hoffman saw the fissures forming as dark shame shadowed his eyes.

"Oh I'm sorry, did you not know?" He asked innocently, gazing past Dalton to Jaz, whose features darkened with stormy anger. He watched her stalk off before he turned a smug grin back to Dalton.

"It's better she knows now, the kind of monster you can be."

Dalton's face was unreadable as he stared at him.

"It's not a criticism you know. I salute you, anything to get the job done."

Preach stepped over and tied the gag around his mouth again and Hoffman knew he'd hit a nerve. He'd tried to play the hero too, and look where it had gotten him. A kill order from his country, with the woman he loved pressing the trigger. He looked across the room at Patricia, who had been ignoring him as some sort of tactical move. Some of that bitter anger threatened to explode out of him, but he pulled back on it, focusing on the bomb that lay mere feet away. He would get his vengeance.

Dalton strode out of the room and Hoffman knew where he was going. Once upon a time it had been important to him that Patricia only see the good in him too.

* * *

Jaz stood outside keeping watch as the sun set. When someone stepped through the entryway of the Quonset hut she didn't look their way. She knew it was Dalton. He stood quietly for a moment before letting out a tired sigh.

"I should have told you." He said finally, shaking his head.

"I didn't need to be briefed on that aspect of the mission. There is no tactical advantage gained by-"  
"But I should have told you," Dalton interrupted, stepping in front of her so she had to look at him.

Anger burned in her at the guilt on his face. She hated the way Hoffman had managed to get his claws into them.

"I was ashamed," he said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Because I wasn't thinking tactically. I was willing to get information no matter the cost."

"I wasn't thinking tactically when I killed Arthur. It was blind rage. You know what was in my mind the entire time I strangled Arthur? Revenge. Revenge for making me think you were dead, for making me think my team was captured." She was trembling with anger now "for…" she couldn't finish the phrase. "Do you think that makes me a bad person?" She challenged

"Of course it doesn't" Dalton said

"Then you have no reason to feel ashamed" Jaz said matter-of-factly.

Dalton sighed and looked out at the darkening sky.

"I can't help but think that the longer we sit here without putting that guy in a cell, the closer we get to a hell of a lot of trouble."

"We've got our guy, thanks to my least favorite undercover op by the way, now we just have to wait for him to lead us back to Verina"

Dalton grinned at her

"I think I was kind of a fan of Stacy."

Jaz gave him a withering stare.

"Honey trap worked," Preach said, popping his head out and holding up a tablet with a blinking signal light.

Jaz rolled her eyes. The guys were much too amused with her in the honey trap role, and she had a feeling it would be brought up to exhaustion before they were willing to let it go.

"What do you say we go scope out a compound," Dalton said, nudging her shoulder with his.


	2. Chapter 2

_"I did my best to tame_

 _The beast that cries my name_

 _Flicker into a flame_

 _Into a raging fire_

 _I can't contain"_

 _MILCK - Call of the Wild_

* * *

1600 Hours

The first indication that something was wrong came when Dalton couldn't reach Preach or Patricia on the coms. Something in his gut felt off, and concern only grew when Jaz, with her sharp eyes, noticed smoke coming from the direction of the quonset hut. Dalton gunned the engine and the car fell deathly silent. They were met with the sound of emergency sirens and MP's who yelled at them to stay back until Dalton identified himself. He ran towards the two med vehicles, fear coating his throat as he spied Patricia, still and bloody on a stretcher. The hustle of the medics told him she still lived. He ran inside with Jaz, Amir and McG on his heels, but just as he suspected, Hoffman was long gone. Preach was being loaded onto a stretcher while a medic held a BVM to Preach's mouth, squeezing rhythmically. He tried not to stare at his friend's lifeless body as he stood silently in the destroyed living area. McG was already interrogating the medics, his face white with shock. Amir and Jaz stood back slightly, eyes on Preach as he was carried past them. For a moment Dalton felt nothing, just emptiness as the sound of sirens wailed through the air.

Then slowly, as if unearthing from a deep well of pain, rage built inside of him, until his focus narrowed only to retribution.

"McG, Jaz, Amir, tail the med vans. I want security detail on both of them the moment they enter that hospital." Dalton said, his voice flat and emotionless.

"Dalton we've got reports of an explosion at the Quonset hut. I can't reach Patricia," Noah's panicked voice came suddenly over the coms.

"Hoffman had a bomb. McG's lead, he'll update you as we get more information." Dalton said, not noticing Jaz stop to look at him.

"McG."

"Copy boss, I'll take comms lead." McG said as he left with Amir.

Dalton yanked his coms and set them in a neat pile, followed by both phones.

"I can provide support." Jaz said from behind him.

"I need you at the hospital."

"Top, I-"  
"That's an order," he snapped, checking the clip on his pistol. He didn't look at her, but he knew her eyes were on the desk where his coms lay. His focus remained entirely on the red stained floor and the burning blackness inside his chest. Jaz remained, and he could sense her trying to find a way to talk to him.

Enough of him remained that he knew he never wanted Jaz to see this side of him.

"Sergeant Khan, that is a direct order" he said, his voice hard.

* * *

0400 Hours

It had been hours since they'd heard from Dalton. Jaz stood, sick with worry and grief as she hung up the phone. Preach's wife had taken the news as bravely as anyone in her position could. Jaz could hear her order her daughters to their rooms to pack their things as she calmly asked Jaz for as much information as she could provide. Amelia's voice shook with fear, but she'd remained strong, most likely for her children's benefit. Trying to give herself a moment, Jaz walked up to the admit station to sign for Preach's things.

They'd placed them in a bin and she cataloged the items neatly, placing them in a canvas hospital bag. Assuming that Preach's sidearm had been placed in secure storage, she flagged down a nurse.

"Was there a sidearm brought in with Chief Petty Officer Carter?"

"No ma'am," the nurse said, checking over the sheet "all items brought in were logged and placed in this bin.

Jaz frowned, and cold fear began to seep into her chest. She rushed back to Preach's room.

"Preach didn't have his sidearm on him when he was brought in."

"What are you talking about?" Amir asked

"When Preach was brought in, I just checked with admitting, he did not have his sidearm on him. Did you see it?"

Amir glanced back at Preach and then at Jaz. His face held the same fear as hers.

"Hoffman is armed" Amir said slowly.

Jaz shook her head and leaned back against the doorjamb.

"Top doesn't know," she said softly

Amir stared at the wall, saying nothing.

She should have stayed with him, was all she could think. But she'd listened to that damn voice that had warned her what had happened the last time she'd disobeyed an order. So she'd left him.

* * *

0700 Hours

Jaz sat curled up in a chair in Preach's room with Amir, both of them silent. Anxiety kept her paralyzed as she stared blankly at the wall. It had been a long time since she'd felt this way. It had been over ten hours since Dalton had disappeared, and three hours since she'd found out Preach's weapon was missing. She'd breached the line of command slightly by contacting Noah in an attempt to locate Dalton, but it hadn't amounted to anything. He'd disappeared completely. Her anxiety increased as she wondered if he would even make it back. Something had been so off about him when he'd ordered her away.

Dalton trusted his team. He never went off by himself, because he knew that as a unit they were more effective. So this disappearing act concerned her. His eyes had been cold with rage, and though his rage didn't scare her, what he would risk on account of that rage did.

Because her fears were making her restless, Jaz stood.

"I'm gonna go grab us coffee," she said, and Amir nodded, his eyes on Preach.

Tears filled her eyes as she walked down the quiet halls. She felt lost in her inaction. There was the sound of footsteps, and Jaz looked up to see a lone figure in black moving slowly towards her. Relief washed over her and she knuckled back the tears that threatened to spill, waiting until Dalton reached her. His face was expressionless, but calm, and he clutched a silver chain in his hand. This time his eyes met hers and he nodded at her before passing her to go to Patricia's room. Her hand shot out and grabbed onto his upper arm and he stilled, glancing back at her. Though the fierce rage was gone from his face, the calm façade shuttered over his eyes wasn't real. Something was different about his gaze. At a loss for words, Jaz dropped her arm and he stepped away. She knew he'd done what he'd needed to do, and she also knew that it was haunting him, the action he'd needed to take to keep Patricia safe.

Jaz headed back into Preach's room, abandoning her quest for coffee.

"Top is back." She said, and Amir stood, looking relieved.

* * *

1300 Hours

Preach lay surrounded by family. Two daughters and a wife, and four team members who would trade places with him in an instant. If the force of love could wake a man that far gone, he would have been holding his three daughters in his arms, while his wife met his eyes and promised forever and then some. Instead, those daughters stood silently beside still arms, while the wife's eyes shone with sorrow instead of joy.

Their deployment had ended 6 days ago. They all missed their flights back home. No one could bear to leave Preach's bedside while his fate hung in the air.

Within days of the explosion, word had spread to the rest of the base. The damage to the quonset hut had been cleaned up and repaired by a group of servicemen, an act that proved military was family, no matter what unit you were in. The team took to staying at the hospital in shifts so that Preach would never have to be alone. They developed a little routine that, though edged with sadness, kept everyone just busy enough for hope to continue thriving.

* * *

Amir stared at Preach's daughters circled around their small dining table, bent over books. The heartbreak on their faces struck a chord in him reserved for another young girl who had never gotten the chance to grow up. Determined to bring them a little cheer, he crossed to the kitchen and began pulling out ingredients, noticing the way Grace, Preach's youngest, followed his movements.

"Does anyone know how to make cupcakes?"  
"I do!" Grace piped up immediately. "I want to be a pastry chef," she added importantly.

"Really?" Amir said, although this information was nothing new to him. "Think you could help me whip some up?"

Grace leapt out of her chair and stood eagerly beside Amir, taking the measuring cup he handed her.

"Can I help too?" Ruth asked

"I think you better," Amir said seriously, and glanced at Allie

"Allie, would you like to bake with us?"

Allie didn't look up from her work.

"I have to finish my homework," she said softly.

Amir nodded, granting her the space, and turned to the two younger sisters.

"Okay, who knows a cupcake recipe?"

"I watch Cupcake Wars, they always add eggs, flour, and sugar."  
"That's a good start," Amir said, and he pulled out some of the homemade vanilla extract that he'd been saving in a jar.

The girls set to their tasks with focused energy, and he directed them, but barely, as they combined ingredients. They giggled as flour spilled and an egg cracked on the floor. Amir watched them and a gentle smile crossed his face. He didn't fail to notice how Allie's eyes moved from her homework to her sisters. Amir waited, knowing she would join when she was ready.

* * *

Hannah stepped into the quonset hut and was slightly surprised to hear laughter. She stopped by the weapons cage and watched Amir bending over a bowl while one of Preach's daughters instructed him how to stir. He began stirring erratically and Grace collapsed into giggles while grabbing onto his arm.

"No not like that."  
"Oh I thought I needed to go fast," Amir said, resuming the spastic stirring and laughing with the girls when flour puffed up and coated his shirt.

Hannah smiled at the interaction, and felt a slow swoop in her belly as she watched him. His eyes snapped up suddenly and found hers, and she felt the smallest flutter of nerves at his gaze. A little unsettled by her reaction, Hannah stepped into the kitchen, peering at the flour spills and eggshells littering the kitchen.

"What are we making here?" she asked playfully.

"Cupcakes" Ruth said, pointing to two badly dented muffin pans. "But we don't have wrappers so they're going to be natural."

"Wrappers just get in the way anyway" Hannah said, turning slightly to glance at Amir, who was smiling warmly down at the girls.

"We're gonna need a steady hand to pour these," Amir said, handing her a spoon.

Hannah shrugged.

"I think I can pull that off"

They formed a domestic scene, huddled in the kitchen pouring dough, and Hannah felt herself easing into the space a little more comfortably than she would have expected. Amir surprised her. Around the girls he was filled with humor and easy smiles, nothing like the quiet, sometimes serious man she'd come to know over these past months. She felt almost as if she had a small glimpse of who he was before his life had taken such a dark turn. The duality of him intrigued her.

"Okay, let's hit those books while these bake." Amir said, easing the muffin pans into the oven. The girls protested, but Amir merely shrugged.

"Well if you don't want to do that then I guess you can help clean this mess up," he said, gesturing to the partially destroyed kitchen.

The girls hurried to their books and Hannah laughed, stepping in beside Amir to wipe flour from the counters.

"Oh you don't have to do that," Amir said, reaching to take the cloth from her.

"I want to," Hannah said simply, and moved away from him to wet the cloth. He watched her, warm brown eyes pulling in details, and she glanced down, not sure that she wanted him learning all her secrets.

"It's kind of you, distracting them like that." Hannah said in a low voice.

Amir shrugged and began rinsing bowls.

"It's the least I could do for him, give his girls some happiness while we wait for him to wake up."

Hannah felt her eyes sting with tears and she focused on wiping flour from the counter.

"How is Director Campbell?" He asked, his eyes on her.

Hannah smiled.

"Well she's on mandatory bed rest for three more days, so you know, she's pacing the room and trying to pry details out of Noah back in D.C."

Amir laughed, and set the bowl on the rack to dry.

"We should have seen the bomb," Hannah said suddenly, voicing the guilt that had been churning in her. "We were so focused on the sub that…" Hannah trailed off as a warm hand closed over hers.

"We were in the same room, and we didn't see what he was doing. This was no one's fault."

Hannah swallowed past the ache in her throat and looked up at Amir. There was a sadness in his eyes that pulled at her. She felt at once completely connected to him, and completely terrified at the implications of that. Hannah stepped away, unsure of the unsteady emotions, and almost sighed with relief when voices sounded at the door.

"Oh what smells like heaven?" McG boomed, letting out a slow grin as he spotted Hannah. "Hey," he said slowly, his grin oozing charm.

Hannah smiled back. This she could handle, the country boy charm rolling off him in waves, the harmless flirtation. Jaz walked in behind McG and rolled her eyes, meeting Hannah's eyes with a smirk.

"He showers with his shoes on," Jaz said, breezing by to grab an apple from the counter.

Hannah bit back a smile as McG sighed.

"You're the worst kind of wingwoman"

Jaz shrugged. "Payback"

"The last time McG tried scoring Jaz a date he accidentally scored himself one." Amir supplied, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Look, it wasn't my fault he was into someone a little more rugged. Although if he could see you after a few days in the field he might have changed his mind" McG said, easily dodging the half-hearted swipe Jaz aimed at him.

* * *

Amir chuckled as Jaz waved McG off and headed towards her rack. His eyes slid over to Hannah again, a new little habit he'd developed ever since Hannah had first joined them for a field assignment, and one that seemed to have continued when she'd flown into Turkey to assist Director Campbell with her duties as she recovered. He was slightly embarrassed to admit he might have a crush on her. It felt foolish, and impractical, and he was rather thankful that McG was currently engaging her in conversation.

The timer sounded, and he turned to remove cupcakes from the oven to set them cooling on a rack.

"I could help decorate," a quiet voice said beside him, and Amir turned to see Allie. He smiled, and handed her a bowl. This one, with her quiet gentle nature, reminded him fiercely of the sister he'd lost.

"Can we make chocolate, that's dad's favorite."

"Sure," Amir said, pulling cocoa powder from the shelf.

"Do you think he'll wake up in time to have some?" Allie asked, eyes pooling with tears. Amir paused, unsure how to answer.

"I sure hope so," he said finally, and Allie nodded, sniffling.

"We could freeze some. That's what mom does everytime we have one of dad's favorite things. Then he can have it when he comes back"

Amir smiled, remembering the family tradition Preach spoke so fondly of.

"Is that the annual Carter end of deployment feast?"

Allie laughed.

"Yeah, and everytime dad eats too much and he says he'll never eat again, but then two hours later he's having seconds"

Amir smiled.  
"Well then let's make sure we save enough for seconds"

* * *

Soft crying stirred Jaz from sleep. She rolled over to try and determine where the sound was coming from. Worried it was one of the girls, she slid silently off the recliner she'd curled up on for the night, and padded down the hall. There was silence for a long moment before she heard muffled sobs coming from Preach's room where Amelia slept. Her heart, already in pieces because her teammate lay broken in a hospital room, ached for the woman who loved him. She turned back and nearly bumped into Dalton, who stared past her at Preach's door.

"I hate this," Jaz murmured

"Me too," he said quietly, his voice heavy with grief.

Moonlight slanted over his face and Jaz noticed it was carved with a weariness that had nothing to do with interrupted sleep. She opened her mouth to say something, but he was already heading back to the living area where they'd been racking out while Amir bunked with McG so Preach's family had a place to sleep. Worry for Dalton caused her brow to crease. There was an edge to him that hadn't gone away since Preach and Patricia had been attacked. He remained mostly quiet, disappearing for long hours without a word to anyone, coming back sometimes with bruised and bloodied knuckles.

Jaz returned to the recliner and eased herself onto it. She turned to look at Dalton, who lay on his back with his eyes closed. He wasn't sleeping, and she watched him, waiting to see if he would talk to her like he usually did.

"What?" He said finally, opening his eyes to stare up at the ceiling.

"When are you going to stop blaming yourself?"

Dalton remained silent for a full minute before he got up, brushing a hand across her shoulder as he passed.

"Get some rest," he said, before disappearing out the door.

Jaz stared at the empty couch, wishing she was as good with words as Preach, who would have pulled Dalton out of his pain with patient persistence.

* * *

Dalton sat with Preach when his heart stopped. Jaz was walking back from the cafeteria with Amelia when she saw him, face desolate, while a team of doctors and nurses tried to pull Preach back from death's grip. Amelia dropped the cup of coffee and ran to the room, only to be held back by Dalton as the doctors struggled to get Preach's heart working. Her sobs tore through the air and right into Jaz's heart as she stood watching. McG and Amir came rushing in at the sounds, and Amir turned back just in time to keep Preach's daughters from witnessing the scene.

McG stood with Jaz and stared into the room. His eyes were rimmed with red and he was shaking his head angrily.

"It's not right, he shouldn't be in that bed."

Jaz nodded, blinking back tears.

The sound of a heartbeat had never been so welcome. Dalton released a weeping Amelia and sunk to the floor, his head in his hands as Amelia clung to her husband. McG signaled for Amir to bring Allie, Ruth, and Grace out, and the girls emerged with tear stained faces. As Jaz stood watching the still form of a man she loved like a brother, all she could think was that the reality of loss was far more painful than the fear of it. She turned for a moment as tears welled in her eyes, wishing to keep her grief private, but her eyes landed on Dalton, still sitting on the floor. Concern had her crouching beside him.

His face was ravaged with guilt and grief as a sobbing Amelia begged her husband to wake

"Let's take a walk," Jaz said, and when Dalton didn't move she wrapped her fingers around his forearm and led him outside, where she hoped air not scented with disinfectant would help ease his shock.

They said nothing, just stood while the air around them cooled and the sun streaked the sky with color in its descent. It was quiet here, and Preach would probably have said something inspired right now, just corny enough to make them groan. The thought filled her with a piercing sadness.

"He's gonna make it," Jaz said finally, so quietly she didn't think he'd heard her until his gaze turned to hers. The depth of his pain reached out and grabbed her by the throat. It was so rare he didn't have that wall of control up.

"I can't lose someone else" he said finally, and Jaz placed a hand on his forearm, aching for him.

"I executed him." Dalton said, and the look on his face told Jaz that though he had acted in vengeance, he hadn't wanted to be the man who did it.

Jaz swallowed hard, and when Dalton leaned back with his head against the wall she acted on instinct, and wrapped her arms around him. He let out a harsh breath before his arms came around her, and his head fell to her shoulder. Tears wet her own face as she clung harder.

* * *

He wanted a moment, just a moment to lose himself in her. Her arms were tight bands around him, keeping him from shattering apart. The anger and grief he'd been feeling for the past two weeks eased, so slightly at first, he was barely aware of it until suddenly it wasn't as hard to breathe. He breathed in the scent of her, shampoo and faint traces of gunpowder, and his arms tightened around her briefly before he released her. He built back his control, piece by piece, and when her eyes met his he wanted nothing more than to run his fingers along her temple and into her hair, but he kept his hand fisted by his side.

"If you hadn't done what you did, Hoffman would have found a way to ruin Patricia, and done a hell of a lot more damage." Jaz said, and the way she looked at him, he could almost believe that the darkness fighting inside of him wasn't there at all.

* * *

 _Preach was trapped in a dark place with muffled sound. He felt the presence of those around him, and when he felt his wife's touch for the first time in over eight months he felt a joy so pure his eyes almost opened. The darkness was too heavy though, and it pressed on him each day to let go and stop the fight that seemed to be determined to end him. He clung to faith, and the sounds of the people he loved, and lay beneath the pressing weight pushing onward. He became weak often, and once, tempted by the promise of what lay beyond that oppressive darkness, he let go. All that was important to him had been steadily fading in this darkness, until he barely knew he existed._

It was his wife's screams that brought him back. He hated himself for the selfishness that almost left his wife and children alone in this world. The day his heart stopped was also the day he began the climb back into consciousness. They removed the ventilator three days later, and somehow, the act of drawing his own breath brought him closer to leaving the darkness than ever.

Preach woke on an unusually sunny day for the generally gloomy month of February. The room was silent, save for the steady beeping of a heart monitor. The first thing he saw was his wife curled up beside him in a chair, exhaustion clear on her face. She was still the most beautiful person he'd ever laid eyes on. He found the strength to brush a hand along her cheek. Amelia stirred and shrieked when she saw him awake. Then she was crying into his shoulder, and he'd never heard her so heartbroken.

"I'm sorry baby," he said, brushing a kiss across her hair.

He looked up to see Jaz walking to his room, concern etched on her face as she looked at his wife. It took her two whole seconds to look up and notice he was awake. Her face lit up and she dashed forward, only to halt awkwardly at the sight of the intimate moment. She grinned at him before backing up to give him and Amelia a private moment. It wasn't ten minutes before his daughters were rushing into the room, and he saw his team standing outside in the hallway, wide grins on their faces.  
"Get in here!" Amelia exclaimed, and then his team was surrounding him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Dalton said warmly, grasping his hand, and although his face was lit up, Preach noticed the strain and weariness in his eyes.

"It's good to be back," Preach said, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

* * *

Deployments started and ended the same, with painful goodbyes first to those you left behind at home, and then to those you left behind to go back home.

Despite the often grueling schedule of a deployment, Dalton usually counted the days until he would return. This time though, he looked forward to stepping away from the heaviness. The bombing on the beach, Tehran, Hoffman. Part of him thought that all it would take was one more moment, one small push, to drive him down a path he'd always feared he was destined for. For the first time in his life he wanted something more . He was tired of going home to an empty house void of familiar voices. Going home meant facing his broken family, fearing each time that he would return as his father, and not the son who walked away.

He heard the familiar rhythm of Jaz's footsteps as she approached and turned. He found himself smiling at the bright happiness on her face. His team's spirits would be high when they returned home.

"Director Campbell arranged for transport to Fort Hunter. They'll get base housing for now, and the girls can get back to school" Jaz said.

"Good. They need stability."

Jaz nodded, and he felt her eyes on him.

"I heard you're staying with them for a bit."

"Yeah, I'll help out until Preach is back on his feet, or they kick me out," he added with a grin.

She nodded and stuck her hands in her pockets, glancing back at Preach's daughters as they pranced around their father who was being wheeled out of his room.

Maybe it was the image of Preach's family gathered around him, or maybe it was because of the woman who stood next to him, but for the briefest of moments he wondered how it would be to come home to a family of his own. In a world where darkness didn't have its grip on him, he wondered if he would look forward to coming home to a wife, children. The fantasy sat for a moment in his head, but the wife had dark hair and the children had familiar eyes, and that wasn't something he would even give himself a moment to fantasize about.


End file.
